Boy In A Magazine - Socratic

I’ll crack my head

Then pour in some sorrow

I stole some things from you

I could have easily borrowed

When you were pissed and on the rag

I waited around but now I’m packing my bags

To live on a street in Hollywood

Will they love me there?

I’ll be a boy in a magazine

I’ll mean nothing to you

You’ll mean nothing to me

You asked to go so I guess that I’ll leave

And just be a boy in a magazine

I won’t have a bed

I’ll still have my string stained hand

I call home where animals are buried in the backyard